Undeserved
by Veryala Riddle
Summary: Lucius can take the punishment for his own mistakes. But what happens when Lord Voldemort decides that's not enough and punishes Narcissa instead? Lucius/Narcissa romance story, takes place in the First Wizarding War.
1. A Painful Error

**Chapter 1: A Painful Error**

Things were not happening entirely as Lucius Malfoy had intended.

The Jongwe house had seemed innocent enough when he and his fellow Death Eaters had arrived to carry out their mission. Nothing about its appearance had given anyone cause for alarm; its lights were all off as they should be in the middle of the night, and no one had detected any guards or protective spells in the area. There was no suggestion that the Jongwes knew of their foes' arrival, and even if they did, they were outnumbered two to one. Bellatrix had had enough confidence to set the Dark Mark over the house before the Death Eaters even entered, considering the Jongwes completely oblivious and the job already finished. The four of them had approached the house fearlessly, already thinking about the favor Lord Voldemort would show them after they had removed these two thorns in his side. As a result, they had not been prepared when Yahara and Zebediah Jongwe had ambushed them from behind the front door.

Bellatrix had insisted on entering first, even though the Dark Lord had technically put Lucius in charge of this assignment. Lucius had learned long ago to pick his battles where Bellatrix was concerned, and therefore raised no objection when she magically unlocked the front door and entered ahead of everyone else. Her boldness earned her two Stunning spells sent straight at her chest. She instinctively managed to block Yahara's, but the other jet of red light from Zebediah's wand hit her left arm as she tried to dive out of the way and she fell heavily against the door frame before sliding unconscious to the floor.

Lucius' surprised expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a malevolent scowl as Yahara Jongwe's smoldering dark eyes turned on him. He blocked her next curse just in time, struggling to fight his way into the house so he could get at her more easily. He felt suddenly lucky that the Dark Lord had not asked for the Jongwes alive.

Lucius could hear Rodolphus and Avery shouting curses behind him, aiming for Zebediah, and a flash of green light flew past his ear and into the room beyond. Lucius heard something shatter down the hall, though he couldn't see what it was through the darkness.

Yahara and Zebediah drew closer together as they dueled their three opponents, who were slowly forcing them deeper into the confines of the narrow hallway. Aurors though they were, they were young, and Lucius could see fear dawning on their dark faces as the Death Eaters fought more aggressively. He was the first to step over Bellatrix's unconscious body and enter the house, fiercely firing curses from his wand. Shouts filled the cramped hall, and Lucius soon started to lose track of who was casting which spells – he was so focused on his target that he barely registered the words coming out of his own mouth. Jets of light flew in all directions, and suddenly there was a yell from behind him and he heard something heavy fall to the ground.

The Jongwes took advantage of his split second of confusion to escape up the stairs, and when Lucius attempted to pursue them he was met with a cloud of Peruvian Darkness Powder that Zebediah had deftly removed from his pocket and thrown behind his wife as she followed him. Lucius caught a glimpse of Yahara's dark braids whipping out of sight before the darkness enveloped him and he had to turn back. A flash of red light barely missed him, though it drew a foul curse from his mouth as he whirled around to see which of his incompetent companions had fallen behind him. The powder had filled the entire hallway, and he had to feel his way back through the front door before he could see anything. His heart sank unpleasantly as he heard the distinctive _crack_that meant his would-be targets had Apparated away.

When Lucius exited the house he saw that Rodolphus had dragged an unconscious Avery outside and was now leaning over him, frowning and muttering something. Lucius looked around anxiously for any sign of spectators, aware that they had made a considerable amount of noise, but there was no one. The charms they had set around the house before beginning their assault had happily worked, and Lucius was very glad of it – they were already in enough trouble as it was. He momentarily considered reviving Bellatrix, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. He knew better.

"Damn it," Lucius muttered as he approached Rodolphus, cursing his group's carelessness as well as the resourcefulness of the Aurors. "What did they hit him with?"

"I'm not sure, but that's the least of my concerns at the moment," said Rodolphus bitterly. Lucius cursed again and lifted his head to look at the upper story of the Jongwe house. Bellatrix's Dark Mark still hung threateningly over it – although it was no longer the Jongwes that it seemed to be threatening.

"He's not going to be happy," Lucius observed dully, and Rodolphus assented, the beginnings of fear creeping into his voice. He did not have to ask who his companion meant.

Perhaps one of the scariest things about Lord Voldemort's temper was that it was so often predictable.

Lucius Malfoy knew before he even set foot in the darkened estate that the Dark Lord would be livid. He felt like he could sense the raw fury emanating from the ancient manor that was the Death Eaters' center of operations as he approached the front gate. Lord Voldemort was in there now, he knew, waiting for their report, though only to hear the confession from their own mouths – he would already know of their failure. And failure always brought the same thing, which was so predictable, and therefore even more dreadful because of the anticipation that preceded it. By the time Lucius set foot inside the mansion, followed by a revived Avery and Rodolphus carrying his mercifully unconscious wife in his arms, he was trembling.

The hallway that led to the chamber where the Dark Lord met with his servants seemed unnaturally long as they travelled silently down it. Lucius had been in this situation before, but the familiarity made it all the more horrible. He knew exactly what awaited him at the end of that passage, and the thought of it made him mentally grovel to any being that might be listening, praying for lenience and begging for mercy. But none of it made any difference, not here where there was no God apart from the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort's lenience was brutal, his mercy deadly, and his pity utterly nonexistent.

Lucius knew his master's hatred of begging and groveling, so he tried to show no weakness as he entered the dark chamber. He was not foolish enough to hope that he could avoid punishment, but he was going to do all he could to prevent himself from receiving any more than he had to. He bowed low as he entered, taking care to arrange his features into an expression of reverence. It was his only hope.

"My Lord," he said respectfully as he entered, and he heard the swish of robes as Avery and Rodolphus, rather awkwardly because of Bellatrix's weight, copied him. The tall, hooded figure standing at the head of the room before them flicked his wand and the door closed, bolting itself shut. A shiver went down Lucius' spine that had nothing to do with the draftiness of the hall as the sound echoed through the dimly lit room. He saw several of the other hooded Death Eaters in the chamber shift their feet nervously. For a tense moment there was silence, then Avery flew forward onto his knees and began to do exactly what Lucius had resolved to avoid. All hope of a chance to give any kind of explanation vanished from Lucius' mind as Avery groveled on the floor.

"Master," he sobbed, trembling and looking fearfully at the black tiles under his hands. "Master, forgive me, we were ambushed, we had no way of knowing –"

"Silence!" the high, cold voice said menacingly, and Avery stopped speaking, though Lucius could hear him sobbing faintly. He had been on the wrong end of Lord Voldemort's wrath even more often than Lucius had lately, and his fear was unmistakable.

"You have failed Lord Voldemort once again," the Dark Lord said quietly, and Lucius recognized his tone with dismay. He had expected it, but the quiet, dangerous voice that always preceded Lord Voldemort's fury never failed to terrify him, no matter how much he braced himself.

"Master, I crave your pardon –" stammered Avery.

"_I ordered you to hold your tongue!"_the Dark Lord hissed, raising his wand high. The bone white fingers contrasted eerily with the surrounding darkness. Avery cringed as the wand lowered slowly, coming to rest barely two inches from the space between his eyes. Lucius had seen this too many times, and he knew what was going to happen a moment before it did: Lord Voldemort drew his wand back and screamed the curse, pouring all his fury into the flash of crimson light that struck Avery full in the face and made him howl in agony. Lucius recoiled from the sight, averting his eyes, wanting dearly to cover his ears and block out the screams that he knew would soon be his own – but he didn't dare to move. After what felt like hours Avery's shrieks died down, replaced by heavy, ugly sobs and retches that shook his entire body. Lucius gathered the courage to look up and saw the Dark Lord glaring pitilessly down at his victim. He ordered one of the other Death Eaters to take Avery out of his sight, and the man nearly tripped over his robes in his haste to obey. He seemed very eager to get out of the room, even if he had to half drag, half carry the weight of a full-grown man through the door with him.

The bolt was lifted so that the two men could leave, but as soon as they had crossed the threshold Lord Voldemort flicked his wand and it fell ominously back into place. Lucius and Rodolphus waited apprehensively, Rodolphus beginning to strain under Bellatrix's weight.

"I find your incompetence disturbing of late, Lucius," said Lord Voldemort quietly, idly twirling his wand through his long, spidery fingers. Lucius momentarily seemed to forget how to breathe. Fear eclipsed every other sensation, and he was barely aware of anything else save the source of his terror.

"Your carelessness has caused yet another delay." Lucius saw the thin, lipless mouth moving long before the words registered in his ears. Fear held him in place more certainly than the strongest chains. He vaguely heard Rodolphus grunting to his right.

"I left you in charge of the simplest of exterminations, and you have disappointed me yet again," the cold voice continued. "This is unacceptable, Lucius. Your incompetence has not only put your own worthless life in danger, but you almost caused me to lose another of my servants tonight." Lord Voldemort's wand gestured toward Rodolphus, who jerked stiffly and carried Bellatrix out of the room in silence. The bolt rose and fell once more, but Lucius did not hear it. Rodolphus' absence only seemed to escalate his fear, and he felt his breath coming in shallow gasps. He tried to tell himself that it would all be over soon, but he could not believe it, not with Lord Voldemort's eyes searing murderously through his own. He could not bring himself to look away from that terrible gaze.

"It would seem that simply torturing you is not enough to get the point across, Lucius," said Lord Voldemort, leering maliciously. The look in his eyes was one of pure, unchallenged evil, and Lucius' knees began to feel weak with panic. What new horror could he have in store, to give him such a demonic gaze?

A soft whimper from somewhere beyond those terrible eyes caught Lucius' attention. It was so quiet that it was barely audible, but something about the sound gave new depths to his fear, though he did not understand why….

Two dark figures emerged from the shadows, robed in black, one pushing the other forward into the dimly lit space between Lucius and Lord Voldemort. The larger one had an iron grip on the smaller, and Lucius recognized the thin, sallow face of his fellow Death Eater as he pushed his captive forward. The taller figure roughly ripped the hood back from the other's face and shoved her into the faint light at the center of the room before receding back into the shadows. Lucius' heart stopped as he recognized the long, white blond hair that framed her terrified features as she looked helplessly up at him.

_Narcissa._

Her eyes were wide and confused, silently begging her husband for an explanation he could not give. Her lips formed his name, imploring him to do something, to explain why she was here, to make everything alright again – but he could not. The fear behind her eyes seeped into Lucius' very soul, ripping him apart as they gazed powerlessly at each other. He wanted nothing more than to take the single step that would bring them together, but he stayed in place, for he knew that the horrors Lord Voldemort had in store would only be intensified if he tried to go to her.

Lord Voldemort laughed mirthlessly as he saw Lucius struggling to comprehend, not daring to allow the obvious reason for Narcissa's presence to cross his mind.

"Your own suffering does not seem to motivate you as well as I would like," Lord Voldemort said in his soft, ruthless voice. "I will be interested to see how you respond to hers."

"My Lord – please –" Lucius choked out, but Lord Voldemort's mirthless laugh was the only answer to his futile appeal. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and Narcissa seemed to shrink before him, her eyes filled with a terror Lucius had never seen in them before and never wished to see again. Lord Voldemort uttered the curse without mercy, and Narcissa's terrible scream echoed through the hall as her knees gave way and she fell, her back arching in agony. Her hair flew over her shoulders as her neck snapped backward, and Lucius saw with horror that her eyes were rolling to the back of her head…. He wanted so badly to look away, but he should have known that Lord Voldemort would not allow it; his eyes were locked into place as surely as if they were chained to his wife's writhing form. She hit the floor hard, crumpling in a heap as Lord Voldemort lifted the curse, leering evilly at the helpless woman. The black robe that had been thrown loosely over her for the Dark Lord's sick dramatic effect had begun to fall off, revealing the blue silk dressing gown she had been wearing before she was brought here. Lucius realized that she must have had no warning and been told nothing of her purpose here, and he longed to hold her, to explain this to her, anything to make her stop crying….

Narcissa lifted her head weakly, seeking Lucius' gaze. Lord Voldemort allowed her to find it before raising his wand a second time, and Lucius saw the agony erupt like fire behind her eyes as his curse struck her body once more. Her mouth stretched open in an ear-splitting shriek, and she writhed on the ground as Lucius watched in horror, unable to look away. He felt tears trickling down his face when the curse lifted again, leaving Narcissa curled into a shaking ball at Lord Voldemort's feet.

"My Lord – I beg you –" Lucius whispered pleadingly, but his words were cut short by cold laughter once more. He felt as helpless as his wife, unable to do anything to stop the nightmare that was happening right before his eyes. He felt his wand in his robe pocket, but that was useless; drawing it would only result in his Narcissa's death as well as his own. More tears trickled unbidden from his eyes as she whimpered softly on the floor.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" said Lord Voldemort softly, pointing his wand almost lazily down at the shaking body. She was nothing to him, Lucius realized; torturing her was not only easy, it was enjoyable sport. He was savoring this, delighting in Lucius' horrified expression and desperate pleading, taking pleasure from Narcissa's pain and tears. He smiled mirthlessly, looking straight at Lucius as he pointed his wand at Narcissa once more.

"_Crucio!"_

Lucius and Narcissa both could only endure, trying in vain to block out the screams and the pain, but the sensations were too vivid to ignore. Narcissa's name escaped Lucius' lips as his knees buckled, and he heard her screaming for him as she struggled in the pitiless grip of the Dark Lord's curse. She lay on her back when it finally stopped, gasping for breath, weeping and calling for her husband in vain. Lord Voldemort stood over her, triumphant, his evil leer making known the pleasure he found in causing others unendurable agony.

"Take care that you have learned your lesson," he said mercilessly, dismissing Narcissa and looking down upon Lucius with no hint of clemency in his face. "Or your dear Narcissa will suffer more of Lord Voldemort's _displeasure_." He swept past Lucius like a cold shadow, soundlessly unlocking the door and leaving the room. Lucius crawled over to Narcissa as the other Death Eaters followed their master, eager to be clear of the scene that had just taken place.

"Narcissa," Lucius croaked as he reached her, and she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes still held the ghost of the Cruciatus Curse, pained and frightened, and Lucius could hardly bear to look at her. His traitorous thoughts summoned the words to his mind: _this was _his_fault._He was supposed to be responsible for making sure the Jongwes were out of the way, and he had failed miserably. _He_deserved this, not his beautiful, precious Narcissa…. He had never seen her as weak, but she was not made for this kind of suffering. Lord Voldemort could break her if he wanted to….

Narcissa feebly tried to sit up, but her strained and weakened muscles gave way under her weight. Lucius caught her before her head could hit the cold floor again, and she reached out for him, faintly speaking his name. He held her to him, giving her the only comfort he could offer, blaming himself ruthlessly as she wept quietly in his arms. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. Tears trickled down the sides of her face, and Lucius searched his mind frantically, trying to think of a way to help her. The limpness of her body scared him, and he carefully placed a hand under her knees, lifting her off the floor. Her small hands clung to the front of his robes as he turned on the spot, carrying her away from that terrible room.

They reappeared in their own familiar bedroom, the only place Lucius could think of that might offer Narcissa some comfort. He had wondered briefly if she would want to see her sister, or perhaps her mother or father, but decided against it. He had seen people react like this to the Cruciatus Curse before, and he knew she would recover, but her weakened state still scared him beyond rationality. He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone, and she was in pain because of _him_. He wanted to be the one to make it right.

He set her gently down on their soft bed, tenderly prying her fingers from the front of his robes. She opened her eyes halfway as he pulled the covers around her, warming her body after the chilling cold of the dark chamber they had just left. Lucius lovingly tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, leaning down and kissing her forehead as he did so. Her faint smile reassured him that she would be alright, and he turned to go with the intent of letting her sleep away the pain alone. He could not imagine that she would want him there with her, after he had stood and watched Lord Voldemort torment her with more pain than she had ever felt in her life. He did not expect her to understand why he couldn't help her, or forgive him for not trying. But she surprised him.

"Lucius," she called quietly, and he turned back to her.

"Yes, my love?" The words caught in his throat. _My love._How could he say that after what he had done to her? He could rationalize it all he wanted and justify it any way he liked, but he had stood there and watched her suffer for _his_mistakes like a pathetic, miserable coward. He deserved a hundred times the torture she had been through.

"Stay."

It was a request, not a command, and her quiet voice melted Lucius' resentment for himself. He was sure it would come back to him later, when he was alone, but for now all that mattered was that his Narcissa needed him, and he would be there for her. He owed her that much.

He climbed into bed beside her, and she snuggled against him as he took her in his arms. He gently stroked her hair, willing any remnants of her pain to go away. He felt her relax as he held her, and somehow her presence soothed him just as much as his comforted her.

"Lucius?" she murmured softly after a few minutes.

"Yes, Narcissa?"

"I love you."

Lucius' throat clenched painfully as she closed her eyes and her breathing became slow and even. He had been stripped of all his usual strength, and more silent tears flowed down his face and into Narcissa's hair as she slept. His days as a Death Eater had in no way been easy, but he had never given in like this before. It had always been dangerous for him, and he considered himself lucky that Narcissa loved him enough to stand beside him anyway. Butshe had done nothing to deserve a Death Eater for a husband, especially one whose blunders resulted in her own suffering. And as Lucius drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel that he didn't deserve her, either.


	2. Forgiveness

**Chapter 2: Forgiveness**

When Narcissa woke the next morning Lucius was nowhere to be found. She wondered briefly where he had gone before her memories hit with an iron blow.

Last night had been like a terrible dream. Hooded figures had come to the house, including her husband's friend Snape, and told her she was to come with them. They would not tell her why, only that it was important and she had no choice. She hadn't even had time to change out of her dressing gown before they ushered her outside and Apparated with her to a dark, sinister looking manor.

By the time she realized something was wrong it was too late. The Dark Lord – whom she had never seen up close before – had been waiting for her inside a cold, dimly lit chamber. She remembered the cold, horrifying face much too vividly for her liking. His presence alone was enough to make her start panicking, and she remembered asking for Lucius, fearing that she had been brought there because something had happened to him. The Dark Lord's cold, indifferent stare was her only answer, and she recalled Snape throwing a black cloak over her….

Narcissa stopped remembering then, knowing that continuing would be painful. She wasn't sure she wanted to face it yet, at least not until she was sure she could move again. Last night her muscles had been too unresponsive and weak for comfort.

She experimentally tried to lift a hand, and was relieved to find that it obeyed her, though it was shaky. She slowly sat up, wincing slightly at the soreness of her body. With some difficulty she arranged the pillows so that she could lean back against them, and her muscles sighed with relief when she relaxed once more.

Sitting up seemed to free her mind of the frightening haze it had been in when she first awoke, and she could now think clearly. She closed her eyes, trying to sort through what had happened and hoping that it would seem less dreadful now that she was rested. She was sorely disappointed.

As soon as her eyelids closed the terrible face of Lord Voldemort swam into her mind. Coming abruptly face to face with the Dark Lord was undoubtedly one of the most frightening things that had ever happened to her. His skin was so unnaturally pale, his features so warped and snake-like, and those blood red eyes seemed to radiate pure evil and bore into her very soul. His was a visage that would follow her into her nightmares.

She shuddered as the memory washed over her and opened her eyes again. Her richly decorated bedroom, flooded with morning light, contrasted so greatly with the scene of the night before that it seemed unreal. She even began to hope that it had all been a horrific nightmare. All she had to do was get out of bed and start the day, and she would realize that this was just another normal morning and her dreams had only briefly gotten the better of her. She would get up, dress, and go downstairs to have breakfast with Lucius before he kissed her goodbye and went to work at the Ministry….

_Lucius._

Something dark clouded her mind again as she thought of her husband. For a moment she did not understand. He was the one who had taken her away from that dreadful place, he had soothed and comforted her, she had fallen asleep in his arms – _and he had stood there and watched her writhe on the floor without lifting a finger to end it._

Narcissa's breath stopped abruptly as this memory hit her. She curled up into a ball on her side, hugging her stomach with her arms and trying not to cry. The pain had eclipsed everything else when it had been upon her, but in those brief moments of respite between curses she had seen Lucius standing not two feet away from her. His face had been a mask of horror, but he had been _frozen _in horror, watching her scream and writhe in agony but taking no action. He must have known how much she needed him then, but he had not even tried to go to her, and the memory made her shake with sobs as the tears spilled over. Narcissa did not care why Lord Voldemort had decided to torture her; she did not even care that it probably had something to do with her husband – all she knew was that Lucius had simply let it happen, and that hurt more than the Cruciatus Curse ever could.

Narcissa had not intended to fall asleep, but the next thing she knew soft footsteps on the bedroom carpet were breaking into her slumber. She did not open her eyes as she felt something being set on the end of the bed, making the mattress sink slightly with its weight. A warm hand touched her shoulder, and though the sensation was pleasant something made her recoil and shrink away. Now that she had experienced sleep again she found that she didn't like waking up. It was as if reality were a nightmare and sleep the only way to escape.

"Narcissa?"

The voice brought Narcissa to full consciousness, though she still would not open her eyes. She felt safe in the soft, familiar bed, and didn't want to ruin the feeling.

"Narcissa, I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to make sure you're alright."

Something in Lucius' voice nearly made Narcissa open her eyes. He sounded so anxious, as if he were almost pleading with her to wake up. She felt him sit down on the edge of the bed and the warm hand returned tentatively, moving gently up and down her arm. She suddenly felt like crying again.

"Please wake up," whispered Lucius, his voice beginning to break. He really was pleading with her now. Narcissa slowly opened her eyes, and it surprised her to see that he was _crying. _She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him shed tears over anything, and she automatically reached out a hand to comfort him, momentarily forgetting the reason she had recoiled from his touch.

As soon as he saw Narcissa was awake, Lucius pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she felt like he never intended to let go. She buried her face in his shoulder and time stood still as he embraced her, stroking her hair and murmuring soothingly in her ear. Narcissa simply could not believe that this was the same man who had allowed her to be tormented by Lord Voldemort – that man could never hold her like this.

"Oh, Narcissa, what have I done?" Lucius whispered after a few moments. He took her face in both his hands and looked straight into her eyes. "I will never let this happen again, do you hear me? _Never!"_

And she believed him. It was all written in his expression: he had wanted so dearly to go to her, but knew that doing so would only give the Dark Lord a reason to prolong her suffering. It had taken all of his willpower to stay in place, not even able to hold his wife in his arms until it was over. Her torment had been as painful for him to watch as it was for her to feel. She hugged him close once more to let him know she understood. In his arms it was hard to remember why she had ever doubted him.

When they broke apart they were both smiling, reassured by each other's embrace, and Lucius pulled the heavy tray he had set at the bottom of the bed toward them. Narcissa saw that it was full of food, and realized that she was very hungry. She hadn't eaten since last night, and it was now early afternoon.

"I think you should eat something," said Lucius, and Narcissa nodded. She picked up a fork and was about to stab a piece of sausage when her hand stopped in midair.

"Is something wrong, darling?" asked Lucius worriedly.

"No," said Narcissa, smiling happily and popping the sausage into her mouth. She had just realized that there was no sign of the Malfoys' house-elf Dobby anywhere. It looked like Lucius planned to take care of her all by himself.

Lucius insisted that Narcissa stay in bed the rest of the day, despite the fact that she was able to get up and walk around the room more or less steadily. She had already forgiven him for what had happened, but he seemed convinced that he didn't deserve it and did everything in his power to make her feel comfortable, happy, and loved. She raised no objections, but allowed him to care for her as he would, making sure to reassure him often that she didn't blame him for anything and she still loved him more than anything in the world.

Though she thought she deserved an explanation somewhere down the line, Narcissa hadn't yet asked her husband why she had been tortured in the first place. She had an idea, but didn't dare voice it for fear of making Lucius feel worse than he already did. He had been coming home in some strange states lately, especially after his meetings with the Dark Lord, and though he tried to act normal she was never fooled. Several months ago he had returned home so shaken that he nearly collapsed as soon as he was through the front door, and ever since then it had not been unusual for him to come home once or twice a month and completely withdraw from everything around him. She didn't know how to help him when he was in a mood like this, and he would never give her any explanation for what had happened to him. She had long suspected that he was being put under the Cruciatus Curse; Lord Voldemort was not known for his kindness and the war hadn't been going very well lately. It was entirely possible that last night she had been punished for something Lucius had done to upset the Dark Lord. But she put the thought out of her mind; even if it was true she knew it was not Lucius' fault and he never would have wished this upon her.

At the end of the day Narcissa had to practically beg Lucius to stop trying to take care of her and go to bed. She was sitting up against her pillows, reading an old book she had found on the bookshelf, when he entered the room carrying a bottle of purple liquid. Narcissa recognized it as a Dreamless Sleep Potion and set down her book, ready to insist that she didn't need it.

"Take this, Narcissa, it will help you sleep," Lucius said as he approached the bed, holding the bottle out to her. She gave him a gentle smile and set it pointedly on the bedside table.

"Lucius, I can get to sleep without any help, I promise."

"I don't want you to have any dreams," he said, and she knew exactly what kind of dreams he meant. She had to admit she didn't want to suffer any nightmares about what she had been through, but she knew she would have to face it sooner or later. She muttered something noncommittal about taking the potion in a little while when she was ready to go to sleep, though she wasn't sure if she really intended to or not.

"Are you sure you're comfortable?" Lucius asked for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Lucius, I swear, I'm as comfortable as I have been all afternoon."

"Narcissa, you were just put under the Cruciatus Curse not twenty-four hours ago." This was the first time he had specifically mentioned what had happened, and Narcissa gave him an anxious glance. He leaned down and affectionately caressed her face, moving his hand gently along her left cheekbone. "Believe me, I know what that feels like," he murmured. "I know you're not alright. You can't fool me, Narcissa –"

"Lucius, there's only one thing I want," she whispered, and his eyes immediately shone. She had barely asked him for anything all day, and she imagined he had felt somewhat useless. He had taken the day off from work at the Ministry and done nothing but try and take care of her, despite her insistence that she didn't need him to.

"What is it, my love?" he asked eagerly, and she smiled.

"You," she said softly, and she pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, putting his arms around her and drawing her to him in a loving embrace that filled her entire being with pure, untainted bliss. In that moment there was nothing but the two of them, and Narcissa knew that no matter what happened, regardless of how much she had to suffer, she would stand by her husband until the end.

Half an hour later the purple potion sat untouched on their bedside table as Lucius and Narcissa drifted off into peaceful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
